"Sir, said the fugitive, hoarsely, but with a new light in his face,"

for that, if I were not your servant--I--should like to--clasp your

hand; and, sir, my name is John Peterby."

"Why, then," said Barnabas, smiling all at once, "why then, John

Peterby, here it is!"

So, for a moment their hands met, and then John Peterby turned sharp

about and strode away down the lane, his step grown light and his

head held high.

But as for Barnabas, he sat there in the ditch, staring at nothing;

and as he stared his brow grew black and ever blacker, until

chancing at last to espy the "priceless wollum," where it lay beside

him, he took it up, balanced it in his hand, then hurled it over the

opposite hedge: which done, he laughed sudden and harsh, and

clenched his fists.

"God!" he exclaimed, "a goddess and a satyr!" and so sat staring on

at nothingness again.




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